


Compass

by roane



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Pining, after the bandstand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane
Summary: Angels aren’t supposed to want to be better. They’re supposed to want to behave.





	Compass

_“I don’t even like you!”_

Why had he said that? That wasn’t at all what he meant. What Aziraphale meant was, “I don’t like that I like you!” And he doesn’t.

Aziraphale’s life on Earth is mostly a peaceful, unperturbed one. He moves through the times, finding new habits, new haunts, new favorites, always finding a nice, safe, comfortable life for himself between assignments.

Until Crowley makes his inevitable appearance, and upends every part of Aziraphale’s carefully ordered life.

Crowley always asks the questions that Aziraphale is too afraid to ask. And then he makes Aziraphale wonder what the answers are. Aziraphale, who has always lived his life in a firm intersection of Faith, Obedience, and Instinct. The problem with Crowley (and his questions) is that Aziraphale always winds up with those three things, the three anchors of his life, in opposition to one another.

Aziraphale’s instinct often insists that Crowley is right about a lot of things. Why does Heaven do so many terrible things? Why give humans free will, but then punish them for using it? But if Crowley _is_ right, how can Aziraphale continue to have faith in an Almighty that would allow--maybe even plan--for those things? And even if Aziraphale keeps his faith that somehow the Ineffable Plan means things will work out right, that God knows what She’s about… how could he keep obeying a Heaven that so often seems at odds with that Plan?

Being around Crowley leaves him confused. Always smiling at him, tempting him, pushing at him to… to think.

To be better.

Angels aren’t supposed to want to be better. They’re supposed to want to behave. They’re supposed to enforce the rules, like Sandalphon, to lash out with Divine Fury if ordered.

Divine Fury has never been Aziraphale's strong suit. He tends more toward Divine Crossness, Divine Sputtering Outrage, or if the occasion calls for it, Divine I-Shall-Write-A-Strongly-Worded-Letter.

It’s for the best that he gave Adam and Eve his sword--he never could have used it. Maybe that weakness is why he was tucked away here on Earth, put somewhere he can do no harm--or at least, they _thought_ he could do no harm.

Except now Aziraphale knows things that Heaven doesn’t. Things that might stop the Apocalypse. And thanks to Crowley’s influence, Aziraphale has no idea what to do with the knowledge. He should have shared it with Crowley… but Crowley wanted them--well, _him_\--to kill a child and… Aziraphale can’t. Not ever. It’s too much like God (or maybe just Heaven?) drowning all of those poor children in Mesopotamia for no other reason than that their parents were “bad.” (Bad how? No one ever said.) This Antichrist, this Adam Young… he can’t help who his father is anymore than those children outside the ark could. And if Crowley weren’t so terrified he would realize that.

Crowley has always been Aziraphale’s moral compass, pushing him to do what’s _right_, not just what was expected. But now his compass doesn’t recognize North anymore and Aziraphale is lost. Crowley has always been there, whenever Aziraphale needed him. Sometimes even when Aziraphale didn’t realize he needed him.

_I’m such a fool._ All these years, all this time, and it’s been staring him in the face since literally Day One. He can’t _think_. He hasn’t been seeing anything clearly since they learned about the Impending End of the World, because if anything, he’s more terrified than Crowley. Terrified of what might happen to Crowley if they’re found out. Terrified of the idea of an eternity separated from Crowley. It’s the single most Hellish thing he can imagine.

And standing here, with this blinding flash of insight, Aziraphale realizes that Crowley’s fears are similar to his. They’re both so terrified for the other, neither of them are thinking clearly. Ah, he can’t _think_! He needs Crowley to help him reason it through, but he isn’t here. He isn’t here because Aziraphale sent him away.

_I’m such a bloody fool_. He’s always needed Crowley, and now he sees, or hopes he sees, Crowley needs him. That they’re two halves of the same whole.

And he finally realizes what he was trying to say in his last words to Crowley.

“I don’t even like you” meant _I love you and I’m so frightened by that I can’t think. I love you and I’ve had six thousand years to say it and never have. I love you and what if the world ends before I can tell you? I love you and I don’t know what to do next._

There’s only one thing to do next. Try to set this right. Together they can work through their fears enough to find a solution. Of course they can. They’ve been finding solutions to tricky problems for six thousand years now.

_I love you. Come back and help me save the world._


End file.
